


an unorthodox opening

by honeybakedgrace



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Queen's Gambit, Benny!Atsumu, Beth!Sakusa, M/M, Pining, Post-Canon, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28350813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeybakedgrace/pseuds/honeybakedgrace
Summary: He can’t remember when it started to change, when he would agree to see Atsumu without a chess board between them. It doesn’t quite matter, he supposes. All he knows is that after returning from Russia, Kiyoomi picks up the phone and dials a New York area code and invites Atsumu to stay with him in Kentucky.Atsumu says has never been to Kentucky, but he agrees.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 146





	an unorthodox opening

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fayetality](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fayetality/gifts).



> This fic is a secret santa fic for my dear friend Faye, who fell into the Queen's Gambit hole I've been suffering in for a few weeks. 
> 
> Merry Christmas/ Happy Holidays Faye! xoxo

Vegas. Athens. New York City. 

There are only three places in this world that the two of them have been so close. Only three places in the world where Atsumu sat opposite of Kiyoomi— the only time in the world where Atsumu willingly quieted for ninety minutes. 

This is their game. 

For a while, Kiyoomi didn’t love Atsumu— he didn’t even like him for most of that time. Kiyoomi only loved the game, and Atsumu is good at the game. 

He can’t remember when it started to change, when he would agree to see Atsumu without a chess board between them. It doesn’t quite matter, he supposes. All he knows is that after returning from Russia, Kiyoomi picks up the phone and dials a New York area code and invites Atsumu to stay with him in Kentucky. 

Atsumu says has never been to Kentucky, but he agrees. 

Vegas. Athens. New York City. Lexington. 

In a spiraling need for change and modernity, Kiyoomi spends a good chunk of freshly minted sponsorship money purchasing new wallpaper, a parlor room chair, and a vinyl record player. Meanwhile, his chess board collects dust on a small circular table by the front window. 

Winter in Kentucky is perfectly moderate. Though it’s his favorite season, he longs for the wet spring. He longs for Atsumu, misses him like he’s only out for milk and eggs, like he’ll be back any minute.

At Christmas, he sends Atsumu a postcard. It’s a thinly-veiled attempt at assuring Atsumu doesn’t miss his flight in March, and an even thinner-veiled attempt at confessing something his mind is still wrestling to understand. 

On New Year’s he caves, and calls Atsumu one more time. 

“Are you sure you can’t come sooner?” 

In the background, chatter and music drowns out his question. “Omi, couldja say that again?” Atsumu shouts into the receiver. 

Kiyoomi clears his throat nervously. “A-are you sure you can’t come earlier?” 

A sharp exhale can be heard over the line. “I wish I could Omi but I got shit t’sort out here.” 

Silence bleeds into the receiver. He’s devastated for nothing. Everything is the same as it was, maybe that means he wishes it were different. 

“What are you doing now?” 

Atsumu chuckles. Kiyoomi can imagine him leaning against the wall, hand shoved into his leather jacket one foot crossed over the other. He thinks he looks cool doing it— it’s insufferable. 

He says, “Thinkin’ ‘bout you.” 

“Ugh.” Kiyoomi’s nose scrunches up.

Laughter echoes from the receiver, melodic and cheery. 

“I’ll be there before y’know it. We can play all the chess ya want together.” 

Through his teeth, for some reason on edge at the thought, Kiyoomi admits, “I think I’m through playing chess. For a while at least.” 

“Well fine then.” His voice is easy and bright. “We can _not_ play chess together all ya want.” 

“Mmm.” Kiyoomi hums, pressing his lips together to fight the smile forming there. 

“I can’t wait t’see ya.” The fuzzy quality tells him Atsumu’s wrapped his other hand around the mouthpiece. A message just for him. 

Kiyoomi mirrors the movement, even though he’s completely alone. He says nothing. What’s he supposed to say that won’t reveal the fondness in his voice?

“Stay outta trouble for me Omi. At least until I get there.” 

“Mhm.” Kiyoomi mutters. “You too.” 

The line goes dead. Outside, music wafts in from down the street and next door. All around him people are celebrating the New Year, but it’s not loud enough. He turns up the radio, and it’s not loud enough. 

The only person he ever loved was entirely unattainable. Atsumu is close, too close for comfort but so, so far away from him. Kiyoomi doesn’t know what’s winning or losing, he just aches.

—

Over the next three months, Kiyoomi excavates a few ancient piano songbooks of mother’s to busy himself. He takes a few lessons and plucks away at its keys in the evening. 

Never has he been so content to do something slowly, pleasurably. Usually, his mind only knows how to be the best. 

When his fingers gently press into the cool ivory tiles he is the only person in the world. 

Somedays in the early evening he’ll open the windows and play. Neighbors walking about or arriving home will linger for a few seconds, slow their pace or stop and listen before continuing on.

He’d been a chess player for so long, he’d forgotten what it was like to try something for the first time. It’s enchanting, and it tugs at Kiyoomi’s heart in a way nothing has ever been able to. 

(Like the way Atsumu has, for some reason, always been able to.) 

During the first week of March, Atsumu’s Tiffany blue bug rattles to a stop outside. Kiyoomi tugs at the collar of his sweater in the doorway. He doesn’t go out to meet him; instead he stands there and lets Atsumu put on his show.

Bag over his shoulder, keys jingling in his hand, and the smile of a thousand suns, it’s a wonder the entire block hasn’t come out to see the spectacle. 

He stops short at the edge of the porch step. His eyes rake Kiyoomi up and down, like he’s already played out and won the game in his head, like he knows the move Kiyoomi’s about to make before he even makes it. 

It’s infuriating, but familiar. Kiyoomi can’t help but be endeared by it. 

In place of a greeting, Atsumu just grins.

Kiyoomi holds up a hand and waves slowly. Like he hasn’t been jumping out of his skin to see him.

They stand still for a few moments, wondering if, after all this time, this is really going to be it.

Kiyoom shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Hello.” His arms wrap tighter around his torso. 

Footsteps patter up the steps, across the threshold, and into the living room. Atsumu’s shoulder knocks gently against his as he goes by, followed by Kiyoomi’s scrutinizing gaze. 

He smells like hours in the car— sweat and coca-cola and sunshine. 

“You should get a shower.” Kiyoomi offers, shutting the door behind him. 

“Under one condition—” 

“No.” 

“—you let me use the fancy soap.” Atsumu plants a still boot-wearing foot onto the coffee table, leaning both his elbows onto his knee. Behind a curtain of blonde hair, he smirks. “What didja think I was gonna say Omi? What kinda guest d’ya take me for?” 

Kiyoomi doesn’t punish him with an answer. Instead he fetches a towel and starts the shower. 

“Don’t dawdle.” 

“ _Don’t dawdle_.” Atsumu mocks, without malice. “I won’t, I won’t. I mean it’s not like a world champion would be able to cover the cost of a decently long shower anyways.” 

With one hand Kiyoomi shoves the towel into his chest and points upstairs, scowling half-hearted. 

They were never any good at losing– neither of them know how to give in to each other. Atsumu jeers at him, Kiyoomi scowls back. And so it goes. 

—

A half-hour passes before Atsumu is back downstairs, running a towel over his head. 

Restless, as he always is, Kiyoomi had begun playing, pausing for a beat to glance towards him.

“I shouldn’t be surprised at this point that ya can do anythin’, huh.” The voice comes from over his shoulder, warmth radiating against his back. 

Atsumu’s hip nudges him aside, making room for them both on the piano bench. 

Kiyoomi asks, “Are you any good?” From the corner of his eye he watches Atsumu poke at the keys curiously. 

“Nah, never played. Seems hard.” 

“It’s not.” Kiyoomi lies, allowing himself the smallest of smiles when he hears Atsumu chuckle. 

“Of course it’s not.” 

“Look,” Kiyoomi lays his hands over Atsumu’s, guiding each digit into place. “Like this.” 

It’s incredibly clumsy. Atsumu’s fingers are thick and short, they don’t dance over the keys so much as they walk right over them. How shocking. 

“Stop treating it like a doormat,” Kiyoomi scolds. “Or a chessboard.” 

“Stick with what ya know is a good rule of thumb!” Atsumu defends, cheekily pressing the pad of his thumb into Kiyoomi’s chin. 

Kiyoomi’s frown deepens. “Is chess the only thing you know how to do?” It wasn’t a challenge when he thought it, but Kiyoomi should have known that everything is a challenge between the two of them. 

He realizes this a few seconds too late. 

Atsumu’s eyelids flutter down, slivers of golden iris just visible as they fall to Kiyoomi’s lips. Without removing his thumb he cradles Kiyoomi’s cheek, hand slowly moving down to pinch the soft, clean shaven skin on his chin between his fingers. 

“I know how to do this.” 

There’s plenty of time to say no, to pull back, to push him away. But Kiyoomi wants him. When they are together like this, Atsumu plucking away his keys, his heart sings. 

_Can I be your only?_

The answer is provided with a kiss, slow and blissful. 

Kiyoomi pulls back first, exhaling against Atsumu’s blood-warm lips. 

“If this is your way to distract me from the fact that you are a terrible pianist, it’s not working.” 

Atsumu closes the distance, not quite kissing as it is a clumsy headbutt. “I dunno Omi.” His lips find the corner of Kiyoomi’s mouth, his chin, under his jaw, on his cheek. “Ya seem pretty distracted to me.” 

If Kiyoomi’s breath catches then that’s his business. “Jackass.” 

Atsumu knows he’s got Kiyoomi cornered— flushed red and, despite his best efforts, smiling like an idiot. 

“This isn’t a win.” Atsumu laughs and laughs, so very pleased with himself. Because— 

“This is _absolutely_ a win.” 

Kiyoomi considers himself somewhat lucky. He half expected Atsumu to say something horrid like _checkmate_. 

“Well,” Kiyoomi swings a leg over Atsumu’s lap, hugging him around the torso. “There was bound to be something for you to beat me at.” 

Atsumu is undeterred, too busy being smug and smitten to care. “I am sorry though.” 

“Sorry?” 

He mumbles into Kiyoomi’s hair. “For takin’ so long.” 

“It’s okay.” 

_I can play the long game._

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed! if you wanna yell at me about this fic or sakuatsu in general you can find me @honeybakedyams on twitter~


End file.
